


A Mountain Between Us

by Loudest_Voice



Series: Fire Emblem: 3H fics [5]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Atheism, Claude POV, Claude Tries It, Gen, Humor as a coping mechanism, Leicester Alliance Political Headcanons, church of seiros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-23 21:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21088163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loudest_Voice/pseuds/Loudest_Voice
Summary: How did an obvious outsider become a political leader in a notoriously xenophobic and racist country?Claude's not sure either.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [luvsanime02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) for beta reading this. I tinkered while posting so any mistakes are my own.

It's best not to discuss Saint Seiros. Or the Church of Seiros. Or the Archbishop. Or anything about worshiping or not worshiping Saint Seiros. Or any diety at all. Claude is a little ashamed of how long it takes him to learn this. It's not like his sole friend in Fodlan, orphan kitchen dishwasher Emmie, frets over anything else they discuss, including her lack of prospects and the fact that she has no family at all. No friends left either, after an outbreak of dysentery last year. What will she do if she falls ill and cannot fend for herself?

Pray to Saint Seiros, of course. Not that it would come to that, since Saint Seiros wouldn't allow such an awful thing to happen to her.

"And she protects all believers?" Claude asked one day, curious about how Emmie explained away all the obvious injustices in the world if Saint Seiros allegedly wouldn't allow them to happen.

"Only the ones who are truly faithful," Emmie had said to him, as though sharing a great secret. 

That hardly had answered the question, but Claude had already learned that philosophical debate about Saint Seiros drive Emmie to unpleasantness. He'd nodded and gone back to showing her the proper stance to fire a bow.

Claude likes Emmie, despite her obstinate faith in Saint Seiros. She's the only servant who deigns to spend time with Claude when he's dressed as a commoner. Everyone else either ignores him or calls him names. Most have learned not to try anything else because Claude is nothing if not proficient at defeating people who are bigger than him, and it seems that most of Fodlan's bullies don't want to admit that an Almyran mutt showed them mercy. Fodlan's servants have nothing on his father's political enemies. 

In the middle of a boring chapter in one of the books about Loog and Khypon, Claude realizes that he should go to church. Emmie is, bless her, not particularly brilliant, or even educated. She is only repeating things she has heard elsewhere. Namely, things she has heard at church. He asks Emmie if he can come along to service next time there is mass or whatever they call it, expecting that she'll be happy. She isn't, and also isn't smart enough to come up with a clever lie about _why_ she isn't. 

There's no point in being angry about it. Emmie's just following healthy self-preservation instincts. It would not do for someone who is already isolated to be seen with an outsider. Claude knows where the chapel is, and mass is a public affair. Figuring out the priest's routine will hardly be a challenge. 

He goes to mass dressed as Duke Riegan's grandson to avoid the potential embarrassment of being thrown out. Chances are that Duke Riegan has procured a priest with enough sense not to incite a mob against a lone Almyran peasant, but he won't risk it. As expected, the fine embroidered coat paradoxically lends Claude an air of anonymity. Several faithful glance his way with varying degrees of confusion and hostility, but no one dares to question a person dressed in Duke Riegan's colors. Claude sits in the back row, content to observe. It is annoying that the priest is not speaking loudly enough that he can hear the sermon well, but not enough to prompt Claude to stand and move closer. No one else is moving. It might be disrespectful to do so. For now, he is content to observe the ceremony. 

The supplicants know when to stand and when to kneel, so the priest has a standard outline for his sermon. After an hour is almost done, a young boy dressed in white walks around holding a basket. The believers quietly offer the boy coins. Those who do not have money offer food, bread, and other things Claude does not recognize from so far away. So Duke Riegan allows the Church of Seiros to collect tithes from his nobles and peasants. Is that because Duke Riegan is a believer, or because he cannot keep the Church of Seiros away from his territories by force?

There's a pleasant hymn at the end of the sermon, led by a choir of young women in religious garb that hides their faces. Their voices fill the chapel with a curious, stubborn joy, almost like the fierce energy that Almyra's warriors exude during the festival dances. Claude's mother had mentioned Fodlan's holy women before, and how she had planned to join their numbers. Not necessarily because she'd been a woman of faith or because she'd been blessed with any singing talent, but because she'd meant to deprive her father of some political gains by removing herself from the marriage mart. 

_Then I met your father,_ she'd told Claude. _And he was a much more gratifying way of asserting myself._

Well, that memory suddenly has more meaning. A few days ago, Emmie had explained that Saint Seiros holy women are not allowed to marry at all. 

Claude waits until almost everyone is gone before standing. He'll have to sit closer to the front next time so he can hear the preacher. It's as good a way as any to pass the time.

He runs into Duke Riegan in front of the chapel. 

"Boy," the old man says.

Claude realizes that he's staring like a fish. He bows, a second too late, berating himself for looking like a fool. There's a brown-haired woman standing next to his grandfather, at least a head taller and with a wicked rapier strapped to her hip. With a discreet look, Claude spots several knives.

"This is Judith von Daphnel," says Duke Riegan, "the highest military commander of the Leicester Alliance." 

The woman looks Claude up and down with undisguised interest. "I don't know what you're thinking," she says to Duke Riegan. "This brat is obviously not suitable."

Claude is used to being dismissed right out of hand because of the way he looks. The Barbarossa had done so, and they are Almyra's most proficient - and respected - warriors. Emmie had done so, and she couldn't even read. Duke Riegan's argument with the Leicester military commander hardly phases him. 

"I don't care how good he is at chess," says Daphnel.

That's fair enough, Claude has to admit, as they make the short walk from the chapel back to the castle. It's a pretty simple game.

"Tainted as he might be, my blood runs through his veins," says Duke Riegan. "I had the Crestologist examine him, and he bears the Crest of Riegan."

Claude has his doubts about that ’examination’, so he's not surprised when Daphnel snorts and tosses her hair. Crests are a distinctly Fodlanese notion, and the ’expert’ had simply made a stone glow at Claude's touch. It had looked like a carnival trick, so Claude would not be surprised if anyone doubted the existence of Crests. Or at least, that he had one. 

The Leicester commander doesn't question the veracity of this supposed Crest, though. She goes on arguing with Duke Riegan about the internal squabbles among Alliance nobles as they enter the castle. It seems that every duke and minor noble has volunteered their own child as heir to the Alliance since Godfrey von Riegan met his tragic end without a surviving child of his own. There are alleged bastards running around, but none bear this all-important Crest that Claude has. Allegedly. None of the Almyran mages had ever detected anything strange about him.

"I'll see the entire kingdom burn before I let that bastard Gloucester put his simpering idiot of a son at the head of the council," rants Duke Riegan. 

"Calm your nerves," says Daphnel, as servants scurry away from Duke Riegan's path.

"He killed my son!"

Claude follows along as discreetly as he can. He doubts his presence is required, but he's curious about the sordid affair.

"Godfrey died in a duel over a whore," hisses Daphnel, following Duke Riegan into his study. "I will not let you plunge the Alliance into chaos over an imagined slight."

But Duke Riegan is enthralled by his own rage. "At least this mutt is of my blood," he yells, gesturing vaguely in Claude's direction. "Gloucester will have to murder him if he wants his brat on the throne."

Nader's assassins must be struggling to contain their laughter. "Truly, I am touched by your concern for my safety."

Daphnel looks at him, as though startled that he can speak. Claude's gotten used to that, so he smiles at her.

"He looks Almyran," says Daphnel, staring right at him.

A servant that had been wiping the chess table can't resist the urge to look their way.

Claude opens his mouth.

"His father is an Almyran savage!" shouts Duke Riegan. "What else is he meant to look like?" 

"My father is not a savage," says Claude. "He is honorable, and brave, and the most powerful warrior in Almyra, and would not let one of his soldiers insult his son!" Not with words, at least.

"I will not stand here and listen to an upstart whelp praise the brigand who stole my daughter!" 

"Honestly," says Daphnel, sighing in exasperation as the servant hurries around her and exits the study. "Have you talked to this boy at all? Is he any good at politicking?"

"My father is-" Claude stops. Old Duke Riegan looks a second away from trying to strangle him with his twiggy arms. "How much do you know about my father?"

Of course Claude is ’good at politicking’. Why would anyone ever question that? He is the crown prince of Almyra, a nation famous for its constant flux of rulers. No Almyran noble could be comfortable in their position without considerable political prowess. 

"Does he know of our history and customs?" demands Daphnel.

"You know I speak your language," says Claude, too confused and angry to bother with a mask of levity. "Ask me directly."

"He can be taught," says Duke Riegan. "The knights tell me his prowess with the bow is impressive, and the servants say that he knows how to lie."

What? The servants said what? That the knights have noticed his skills is to be expected, but which servant has been making reports about him? Merla? Emmie? He has not _lied_ to them. They just haven't asked him any questions.

"Listen," says Daphnel, "I want Gloucester and his warhawk mentality as far from the council as possible, but you promised me a suitable heir by the end of the month." 

"Do you know who my father is?" Claude asks Duke Riegan again, urgently. He can't keep getting distracted. "What's his name?" 

"What do I care about a bear's name?"

So he doesn't know. He doesn't know that Claude's father is the King of Almyra. It doesn't seem possible.

"The Alliance dukes will meet during the last week of the next moon," says Daphnel. "It's time to consider adopting a suitable heir."

Claude leaves the study without another word. No one tries to stop him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lorenz was supposed to come in this chapter, but I got sidetracked. I guess that just means chapter 3 will be longer.
> 
> Thanks to luvsanime02 for beta-reading!

It's precisely because Claude has a great sense of politics that he does not push the issue of his father's identity with Duke Riegan. The old man has designs to use Claude in some far-fetched revenge-spite scheme against this Count Gloucester, or Duke Gloucester, or whatever the man is. Claude had been somewhat compromised during the meeting with Daphnel. Somewhat. 

Anyway. Claude cannot count on his grandfather's spite to protect him if it comes out that he's Almyra's crown prince. That might suggest that the Almyran crown has some ambitions regarding Fodlan, which it doesn't. Not from Claude's father, anyway. The current Almyran king prefers to focus Almyra's resources on a strong defense, and economic and technological advances. It takes aggressive and sustainable farming to feed even a single battalion of wyverns, and a lot of time to train soldiers that can ride them in battle. But Claude doubts he could convince anyone in Fodlan of that. They're all convinced that Almyra is a nation of marauding savages.

In any case, Almyra's disinterest in Fodlan might not persist if Claude's father loses the throne - always a significant threat for any ruler in Almyra. Best to mention his father as little as possible from now on, and focus instead on something he should have been more curious about since his arrival.

How did Godfrey von Riegan die? 

The next time Claude looks for Emmie, he doesn't bother to dress in commoner garbs. 

"What in the Eternal Flames!" Emmie gasps when she sees him in Duke Riegan's bold golden silks. It's comical how her jaw hangs open. If she weren't sitting on a bench in front of the chapel, mid-afternoon with plenty of people coming and going, she would probably be yelling at him.

"It's a bit tacky, I know," says Claude, sliding onto the bench and looking towards the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. It's a statue of one of the saints of the Church of Seiros. The one with the lance. Claude keeps getting the names mixed up. He hasn't been paying as much attention as he should.

"How are you--?" She swallows, twists her hand around her faded, stained grey apron. "Claude?"

"Yes?" 

"You're Duke Riegan's Almyran grandson." She looks near tears.

Claude feels as low as an eel. He never meant to hurt her, even if she had been spying on him on Duke Riegan's orders. And her obvious shock indicates that she hasn't been. That, or her acting talent is suited for the famous opera house in Enbarr that Kyphon infiltrated during Fheargus' Holy Rebellion.

"Who did you tell yourself I am?" asks Claude, reproachful despite his regret. He's the only Almyran in the castle, and Emmie is functionally illiterate, not stupid.

"I don't know!" Emmie hiccups. "His servant? You tried to tell me you're a squire."

Oh. Right. Belatedly, Claude recalls his angry declaration that he _hadn't_ lied to the servants. It's rather poor form to forget your own clumsy attempts at lying.

"What do you want from me?" asks Emmie.

"I just wanted somebody to talk to me," says Claude. 

"Just have them bring you a tutor, or a clown, or just anyone," says Emmie. "A whipping boy, anyone. You're rich. You can have anything."

That has been true, more or less. Everything Claude has ever asked for, his father has provided. Except. . .

"Not everything," says Claude. "Not someone who _wants_ to talk to me for no reason. I can't get it as--" _a prince_ "--Duke Reigan's grandson, and I can't get it as a runt, either."

"I wanted to talk to you," says Emmie, green eyes wide. "Every day, I looked forward to seeing you, and you don't even exist."

"You're ashamed of me," says Claude. "You didn't want people to see us together."

"What?" Emmie frowns, confused. "Everyone sees me with you! They must think me an idiot." She stands up abruptly and walks to the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, wiping at her cheeks. 

Claude catches up to her quickly, holding back his anger for as long as he can. "You wouldn't even go to church with me. Didn't want people to see you with the half-breed from Almyra?"

"Don't be stupid!" hisses Emmie. "You can't help what you are, and you sure can't hide it, so don't ever try it again. Lying is a sin!"

"I don't need another sermon," says Claude.

But Emmie isn't easily distracted when she goes on her rants. "And you are very nice to look at. A little skinny for my tastes, but the Goddess blessed you with a nice face."

"What?" Claude bites his lips to suppress a protest that he _isn't_ skinny, just still growing. He has misinterpreted the situation, and he might not get what's happening if he interrupts Emmie's tirade.

"It doesn't matter how pretty you may be, though. I can't be tumbling a man who doesn't believe in the Goddess! And seems all proud about it, like it's a smart thing."

"Tumbling. . ." Claude exhales slowly. "You thought I was courting you."

"Well, why else would a man ask a woman to church?"

"I was just curious about mass, as I said! What does that have to with tu--with courting?"

"How does a man go about _courting_ a woman in Almyra?" asks Emmie, making a face.

"First, I'd ask you to come on a trip with me and promise to protect you," says Claude.

"Which you did, when you wanted to go see your mountains," says Emmie.

"We didn't even go outside," protests Claude. Although, looking back on it, he had cajoled Emmie into it. "And then, I would bring you meat to prove I'm a good hunter. . ."

Emmie simply looks at him.

"Yes, I have been saving some of my meat for you," says Claude, "but only because you keep complaining about how tired you are all the time and meat makes you strong."

Emmie snorts and starts walking past him."That sounds like Almyran nonsense. Just forget about me. I'm not gonna be some harlot for a strange half-breed lying noble who is, worst of all, a blasphemer." 

"Wait!" Claude walks after her, irritated because he let himself get sidetracked by all this drama about who lied to who, who spied on who, and who has been trying to tumble and/or court who. He still knows nothing of Godfrey von Riegan, or any rumors about him. "Emmie, wait."

"Go away!" 

They're almost back to the main castle, and Claude bets Emmie won't dare speak directly to him once they're inside its walls.

"You're my only friend here," he blurts.

Emmie stops in her tracks. "I'm sorry, Claude." She doesn't turn around. "Maybe if you were different, or if I was different. But we are who we are, and neither of us can change it. I hope you find the Goddess in your heart."

The short speech freezes Claude on the spot. He stands in the courtyard well after Emmie's out of sight, breathing in and out slowly. He's not going to cry over this. Emmie isn't the first person to decide that a friendship with him is more trouble than it’s worth, and she doesn't even know the whole truth about him. In fact, it's better that this happened now than a few months (or, heaven forbid, a few _years_) down the line. 

That afternoon, Duke Riegan does not summon Claude for their usual, and boring, chess game. A stroke of good luck, considering that Claude is in no mood to hold his tongue.

"Merla, what happened to my uncle?" asks Claude, when she delivers his dinner. He had planned to confront her about whoever has been reporting to Duke Riegan about him, but it doesn't really matter what servant has been watching him, only that it surprised him when it shouldn't have.

"Pardon me, my lord?"

"My uncle," repeats Claude. "Godfrey von Riegan. What happened to him?"

"He was ambushed by demonic beasts on the way back from Gloucester territory, my lord," says Merla. 

"That's not what my grandfather believes," says Claude. 

"It is not the business of a lowly servant such as myself to be concerned with what Duke Riegan believes or does not believe, my lord," demurs Merla. "I repeat only what he has said."

Which means that Duke Riegan had said it in some official capacity. He either had changed his mind, or never believed that Godfrey's death was an accident in the first place. Who could make the supposed leader of the Leicester Alliance lie to his own servants about his heir's death? With the limited information Claude has, he would bet the church. Or Judith von Daphnel, though that seems less likely. The woman had looked exasperated with Duke Riegan, but also like she was determined to humor him to some extent.

Claude dismisses Merla without asking any further questions. The chances that she knows anything are slim, and she wouldn't share anything with Claude anyway.

The bright side about Emmie terminating their pseudo-friendship is that Claude has more time to focus on his future. So far, he's passively let things happen in Duke Riegan's castle, hoping to get some kind of sign about how to proceed. It's almost as dumb as wasting hours praying to a Goddess that probably doesn't exist. No more of that. 

Of course, his training must continue as it always has. If Duke Riegan has his way, Claude will be dealing with assassination attempts in Fodlan by the next moon. 

"I want to train with your knights," Claude tells his grandfather at their next chess game. 

"They are incompetent fools," says Duke Riegan, without looking up from the chess board. "Godfrey trusted them, and look where it got him."

"No, don't move your knight there," says Claude, when Duke Riegan moves to take one of his pawns even though it means Claude would win the game in three more turns. "Here." Claude moves the white bishop so it can defend his grandfather's remaining rook. "I didn't say I'm planning to trust your knights, just that I need someone to train with. I'm getting weaker and clumsier going through drills and target practice by myself."

Duke Riegan looks at him with narrowed green eyes. "You sent me many letters when you were growing up. I remember."

Claude shrugs. "I noticed my mother was lonely sometimes."

"Why did you stop?" 

"'Cause you never answered me," says Claude. "Paper's too valuable to waste. I was shocked when I got your invitation to come here. My mother begged me to ignore it, but--"

"She would!" Duke Riegan swipes at the chess board. "Bitter old witch, just like her mother. But I know! I know that they connived against me in Gloucester."

"Grandfather, you don't sound sane," says Claude, staring down at the chess pieces littering the floor. "In all my moons, Mother never mentioned any Gloucesters." 

"That's what they all say!" Duke Riegan says, laughing bitterly. "We'll see what happens after I've got you sitting next to the Archbishop, spitting on the Goddess herself."

"Right," says Claude, mostly to himself. "And if I agree--"

"Why wouldn't you?" demands Duke Riegan.

"A better question is, why _would_ I?" It's dumb to argue with someone who's lost all sense of reason, but what choice does Claude have?

"You would rather die a scavenging Almyran mutt than the leader of the Leicester Alliance?" 

"My esteemed Duke Riegan," says Claude, in crisp, perfect tones, "do I _sound_ like a scavenging peasant to you?"

"No. . ." Duke Riegan peers at him, as though actually seeing him for the first time. "I will speak to Judith about seeing to your military training. People have always been attracted to fools who do fancy tricks with swords."

Well, that isn't wrong exactly, so Claude smiles and goes back to the chess board. The game engages him more now that Duke Riegan is taking his advice, though it does feel like he's playing against himself. 

"You remind me of Godfrey sometimes," Duke Riegan says after the game is over, as Claude gets ready to leave. "Your eyes. Bright like leaves under sunlight. Avenge him."

Claude doesn't know what to say to that. He doubts Godgrey von Riegan needs to be avenged - not that anyone does, but Claude suspects that his uncle really did die in an unlucky ambush - but saying so would obliterate any connection he might have forged with his grieving grandfather. So Claude bows to avoid having to agree or disagree, and flees the study as fast as he can without being obvious about it.

**Author's Note:**

> It makes very little sense to me that the Leicester Alliance would let Claude be their leader considering Fodlan is all fantastic racism everywhere, but also how did Claude's gradfather not know Claude is the Almyran crown prince? Can we chalk this up to no Instagram and Fantasy medieval anime Europe?


End file.
